The Life and Times and Death of Bela Talbot
by PurplePoctopus
Summary: Bela Talbot had many names, many stories... but there is only one truth. This is it. What really happened on that playground, all those years ago?


It was quiet. Too quiet. Only the sound of her pen scratching against the paper of her homework could be heard in the large house, save for the clock in the other room chiming on the hour. Her parents had been gone for hours, but she was too chicken to finally run away. Instead, she put down her pen and went out fo the old, broken swing set in the center of the cul de sac that had been there since before she was born. The swings were moving by themselves mysteriously, but she figured that someone must have just come off of hem. She sat down on the rickety swing and grabbed the rusty chains that poked in a way that made her sure she was going to get tetanus. The air was still, then—Bam.

"I could help you out, you know." A girl about her age said, after appearing on the swing set next to Abby. "He does things to you, doesn't he?" The girl asked. A breeze rolled by, blowing Abby's hair into her face, but the other girl remained pristine. Abby just nodded, she couldn't bear to say anything, especially after her father paid off all the people that were trying to help her. She just wanted it to stop. "Would you wish them dead?"

Abby stopped to think, because… were you supposed to wish anyone dead? It was wrong, but… "Yes." She said. "I do wish they were dead."

"Well, then. I could help." The girl's eyes flashed red. "Not my usual choice of suit, more my boss' fancy, really, but… Abby.. I can help. It won't cost you anything for ten whole years."

"Okay." Abby said with tears in her eyes. This was it. It was going to be over.

The girl grabbed Abby and sealed the deal with a kiss.

When she got back inside, she was met by two police officers, saying that her parents were in a car accident—hit by a lorry and died in an instant. Abby just nodded and locked herself in her room. She did it. It was real. They were gone.

A few days later, she got a call saying that relatives in New York were going to take her in. He was her mother's uncle's stepson, who was a recently widowed, moderately successful literary agent. Abby had never heard of said relative before, but she couldn't care less about England anymore. She still saw his face everywhere.

When she got off the plane, she was met by a man in a suit holding a little girl's hand. They were both wearing sunglasses, and neither talked to her. They just grabbed her bags and lead her to their car.

"Good to see you again, Abby." The man in the suit said. "I never got to properly introduce myself on the swings. I'm Crowley, King of the Crossroads." The little girl turned to her, her Minnie Mouse sunglasses now on the seat next to her. "And I'm Lilith." The girl's eyes flashed white, and Abby's pupils dilated in fear. She had learned enough from books that these weren't people, no. Abby was dealing with demons.

"You know, I don't like the name Abby. Crowley, what was the name of that actor in that movie we saw last night?"

"Bela. Bela Lugosi."

"I like that. Abby, your name is now Bela." Lilith paused with a delightful grin on her face. "Oh, Crowley! Baby carriage! Forty points." Crowley smirked and rammed into the stroller, sending a rain of gray matter down on the car. Lilith clapped in delight, while Bela stared in horror. She know there would only be worse to come.

Crowley and Lilith trained the newly christened Abby to be a thief. By sixteen, she had already stolen several trinkets from several hunters' pockets. She quickly learned, "Yes, I'm eighteen." Usually worked without fail. Hunters were never as noble as they liked to think they were, and most of them were comparable to serial killers with they way they obsess over the hunt. At sixteen, she realized that she was Stockholm syndroming _hard_. She loved Crowley and Lilith like family, despite the face that they often used her as a pincushion when they got angry.

At nineteen, she began dating fellow supernatural thief, Josef; a Russian with big hands and a big… wallet. He didn't give a crap about her, or the fact that she preferred demons to humans. He cheated on her with everything that moved, but it was okay00she spent long nights with Crowley, and sometimes with Lilith if she could be bothered to find a "Big girl vessel." She and Josef parted ways, but stayed in touch, after Crowley pushed her out a two-story window. The abuse from the demons was bad, but it was just flesh, it heals. It wasn't like the ragged, emotional wounds left from her father.

Bela Talbot went by many names. She had many stories, but only one was true. Sometimes, when Crowley got angry, he'd scream and her and call her Abby, the sad, scared little girl. She hated when he'd do that, and she'd retreat to Lilith, who'd comfort her and tell her that she was better than Abby, so much better, and in a few years, she'd show Crowley.

On her twenty-fourth birthday, she robbed a museum in Rome. She ran into Crowley during her escape, and he told her that she was dying. Eight months, he gave her. It turns out that kiss that killed her parents was a deal. She sold him her soul, and it was almost time to pay up. She begged him no—begged and begged, so he gave her a job. Steal the Colt from the Winchesters, don't go to Hell.

She returned to America after the confrontation and planned a scheme to screw over those Winchesters. First, she stole a foot from their father's storage box. Then, she caught them in Massachusetts and nicked a Hand of Glory. She was prepared to get the gun there, but they saved her. It was getting harder and harder to hurt them, but time was running out.

Lilith and Crowley told her about Dean's deal, and it wasn't too hard to steal the Colt. She didn't feel remorse—she needed it more than them, anyway. She brought it back to Crowley with hope in her eyes, but he pointed the gun at her head and smirked.

"Sorry, Love. Deal's off. Either bring the moose's body, or you're going to the hotbox." Tears streamed down Bela's face as she came to the cruel realization that she was going to Hell. She couldn't kill Sam. The Winchesters would be the only ones that might jut mourn her death. Instead, she called the cops on them, and let Lilith go after them.

Crowley came to her one last time, telling her to kill Sam, or he'd kill her. This was an applicable threat, and she chased the Winchesters to the Erie—or so she thought. Dummies and a phone call, that's all she got.

"Hey, Bela. Your deal's come due… I'll see you in Hell." And then a click. They were four hours away, and she had five minutes left. The howls started, and she started running.

_"Abby…"_ Bela heard as she ran into the bathroom and laid out a salt line near the door. Before she could finish, a hellhound crashed through the wall, teeth gnashing. She could feel its hot, rotten breath on her neck, and she was hit in the face with its venomous spittle. This was it. This was death. Before the dog clamped down on her neck, Crowley appeared, carrying a pistol in his hand. "Two choices. Shoot yourself dead, and let me take your soul…. Or let Growley here tear you to bits."

Growley's enormous paw landed on her chest, squeezing the breath out of her. She could feel her ribs cracking underneath her flesh, popping a lung. "Crowley…. Please…" She coughed. "Give me the gun."

"Good thing you acted now. See you soon, _Abby._" He aimed the gun and pulled the trigger, and soon, Bela Talbot…. _Abby,_ was in Hell.

Two hours later, Dean arrived at the Erie to get a gun that he left in the minifridge. Most of the room was destroyed, but he could make out a perfectly manicured hand peeking out from underneath the bathroom door. _Bela._

Dean found her body, lying in a pool of fresh blood. He may have hated the bitch, but he wasn't going to let her be buried Jane Doe in some shallow grave by the motel management. He took her limp body to a nice field, and spent all night digging a proper grave. He laid her to rest in the hole, and doused her with salt and gasoline as tears filled his eyes. This would soon be him. The tears dropped first, who seconds before the match.


End file.
